The Red Dragon
by QuackPower
Summary: What if Elia Martell's daughter never died in King's Landing siege? Rhaenys (Enys) Targaryen survived Robert Baratheon's rebellion and was raised in Dorne. Her uncle Oberyn taught her well. She is known as The Red Dragon. The last Targaryen. She will meet Tyrion Lannister at Castle Black. Follow her from there. Jaime/Rhaenys. Bad at summaries. More info inside!
1. Meet Enys

_Ok, so here it is. This is short, but I promise more soon enough. As I said in my profile, this is a Jaime/Rhaenys T. fic, but since she was murdered as a child in the books, I'm calling her an OC. In my story she wasn't murdered, she was in Dorne when Tywin Lannister laid siege to King's Landing during Robert Baratheon's rebellion. More info in my profile. Hope you enjoy! XX_

 _PD: I don't own anything related to GoT or ASOIAF whatsoever. This is just for fun._

* * *

One would think the cold wind attacking her skin like little daggers wouldn't affect her, being a Targaryen and all, the blood of the dragon… But truth is Castle Black is cold as fuck. And ugly. No wonder they had to fill the place with criminals. Who in their right mind would choose to spend their lives in a place like this? Since her first encounter with The Wall years ago, she always marveled at that sturdy, enormous block of pure ice. It was a sight worth the travel. It left feelings of wonder and fear at the same time in the hearts of all. But that was just The Wall. Castle Black was more of a stable than an actual castle. She was not some spoiled little girl –although uncle Oberyn might have spoiled her a little bit…-, but all the grey light, and mud, and cold… It grew old soon. She grew in the south after all, in Dorne, the land of the sun.

\- - Beautiful night-. A silky voice interrupted her musing about home-.

\- - And cold as fuck.

\- - Such an improper language for a lady!-. The voice exclaimed in mock horror-.

\- - Castle Black is no place for ladies.

She turned around smirking and saw that the silky voice belonged to no other that Tyrion Lannister, also known as ''the imp''. She always thought it to be a disrespectful nickname. It looked like disrespectful nicknames ran in the family… Half-man, Kingslayer… It was one of the things that discerned a dornish from other folks. Dornish people will hate you if they hate your actions, not your appearance, not single facts, but the whole of you. Despite the Lannisters being behind her mother and brother murders nobody in Dorne insulted Jaime Lannister just because he rid the world from a mad king. Many actually thought he made everybody a favor by breaking his oath. But murdering innocent Elia Martell and her son… That Dorne couldn't forgive. The south remembers. Uncle Oberyn remembers.

\- - You are…

\- - The imp, at your service-. Tyrion Lannister interrupted her-.

\- - Yes, you are a dwarf, and a blonde, that I can see. I was going to say that you are Tyrion Lannister. Before you rudely interrupted me… -. She said offhandedly…-.

It took him by surprise. That much Rhaenys could see. The way see dismissed his height… People out of Dorne were really assholes it would seem.

\- - I'm terribly sorry, my Lady - He recovered quickly-. I never meant to be rude.

\- - Well, you were. Not because you interrupted, but because you assumed I was another stupid empty head who judges others by their appearance. I don't know what kind of people surrounds you at the capitol, but we dornish know better than that.

He was dumbstruck by her speech once again. She spoke with the confidence of a leader, the assertiveness of someone used to deal with others in precarious situations…

\- - Forgive me, it wasn't my intention to jump to conclusions. Bad, habit, I guess, Lady… I'm sorry but I don't think I know your name- He apologized again, urging her to share her name-.

Ah… Her name… This was often a problem out of Dorne, where she didn't need to hide. In the south everybody loved her, the daughter of Elia Martell had become a beautiful and fair Princess of Dorne. It didn't hurt that she was a mighty warrior either, her uncle Oberyn saw to it. There was no fooling the Martells. They knew she would always be in danger outside their walls. They knew her existence irritated powerful people of the capitol. Too many wanted the last Targaryen dead, before she decided to reclaim what was rightfully hers: the iron throne. They could keep that ugly thing for all she cared. Her history lessons taught her that whoever dared sit on it would be miserable for the rest of their lives. The rest of their short lives… Here at Castle Black, they were all just warned not to mess with her, for she was Maester Aemon's acquaintance.

\- - Enys. Just Enys- That's how most people called her, after all-.

\- - Just Enys, you say?- He enquired suspiciously-.

\- - They say you're a smart man, as well as a dwarf-.

\- - Well… Your accent and sun kissed skin are certainly dornish. Yet the violet eyes and those white streaks of hair, they scream Targaryen. Plus, 'Enys' sounds like a diminutive for 'Rhaenys'- He connected the dots easily-.

Her eyes were a giveaway all her life, and there was nothing she could do about it. With age her brunette hair started lightening at the forefront, resulting in the two white streaks that adorned her face today. She tried to dye them for her travels, but it turned out to be impossible. Her only chance at disguise was to keep her cloak up at all times.

\- - You nailed it, my Lord - She smirked. She could appreciate intelligence when she saw it, and this Tyrion struck her like the intelligent type-.

\- - Please, if you are just Enys, I am just Tyrion - He conceded with a smile of himself-. My, my… this travel is turning out to be very interesting. Rhaenys Targaryen, daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell.

\- - Shall we take this conversation to my quarters before we freeze to death? - She invited graciously-. I brought some red dornish with me.

\- - How could I refuse red dornish?

\- - You couldn't.

And with that they headed for a night full of drinking and laughing.


	2. Trial by combat

_Ok, so this took longer than intended, but that's life, I couldn't really do anything about it. I've notice mistakes in some of my publications, like words missing from sentences. I revised my Word docs and the missing words are there, so I don't know why, but when I public here they just disappear and I wanna scream bloody murder._

 _Big thanks for the favs, the follows and the reviews. Keep it up people, I'm a lazy ass, I get bored easily and drop things halfway. Don't let me do it, be my moms! Lol._

 _Thanks again, especially to Aranel Silvertongue, Baftan, Kasuka-chan and Tygon Lannister for the comments. XXX_

* * *

\- More wine? – Asked the inn's owner-.

\- Yes, please – answered Bronn.

She filled our cups and went to ask the same question to the other tables. I picked up my goblet and downed it in one big gulp.

\- You have a taste for shitty wine, don't you?

\- You're one to talk.

\- Yeah, well, I am not a princess – he downed his own wine.

Weeks passed since I last drunk a good wine back at Castle Black in the company of Tyrion Lannister. It was sad to part, really, nights of drinking, talking and laughing gave way to the beginning of a beautiful friendship. He was witty, sharp-tongued, cultivated… Yet very laid-back. He was a pleasant company. I even found him attractive. Uncle Oberyn was all for beauty and the body, that wasn't for me. I was into the minds _. ''You can't fuck the minds, Enys''_ he had said. _''Then I shall die a virgin''_ , I had answered. Now, don't get me wrong, I was no prude. Of course I was to remain a virgin until my wedding night, bastards were for men, but that didn't mean I couldn't do other things. Nudity and sex were treated with ease in Dorne, and I visited brothels with Oberyn and Ellaria more than once. I had experience with women and knew how to please a man even if I never did it. I could appreciate a woman's body, yet I couldn't bring myself to feel the same attraction for a man without previous personal admiration.

But back on track… Tyrion peed over the wall and we parted ways with the promise of a visit. Bronn was waiting for me north of the Neck. He would escort me back to Dorne from there. The north was no problem if you kept your distance from the few towns, but the south was another matter entirely, the Lannister army was everywhere. I met Bronn a few years back, when I had the great idea of escaping home. Why? And why not. I was a hyperactive kid, what can I say. Uncle Doran put word out for some of the best mercs of Westeros: a lot of gold for whoever returned me home safe and sound before the news of my escape reached the capitol. Bronn was the one to find me. He took me back to Dorne tied and over his shoulder, and he threw me on the floor at Doran's feet.

\- Would you stop with the ''princess'' word?

\- Oh, stop worrying, if someone hears me I'll just kill'em.

Just when I was pulling at my cloak self-consciously the door opened to reveal no other than Tyrion Lannister. There he was, in all his cockiness asking for a free room that didn't exist.

\- Is there nothing I can do to remedy this? – He flaunted around a coin-.

\- You can take my room – said Bronn immediately. That's Bronn to you, all about the money-.

\- Ah! That's a clever man!

After that everything happened so quickly… One moment Tyrion was greeting Lady Stark (who appeared to be hiding under a scarf just like me) and the next every sword in the room was pointed towards him because according to the lady, he had conspired to kill his son while in Winterfell. Tyrion told me about the boys fall one of our drunken nights at Castle Black, he sounded really sorry for the kid, and even though he was cunning he wasn't the lying murdering type. There was sincerity in his voice and eyes when he told me he had a soft spot in his heart for cripples, bastards and broken things. I adjusted the cloak over my head and the scarf over my face and told Bronn to offer our services to the lady escorting her back to The Eyrie. Now, I don't have anything personal against the Lady Stark, but her lord husband participated in Robert's Rebellion, which resulted in my parents and brother's death. I had this conversation with Tyrion while in The Wall.

 _\- Strange, isn't it? There was the Mad King, burning people for his own amusement, yet nobody rebelled until your father kidnaped Lyanna Stark. It never made sense. Rhaegar was everything the seven kingdoms wanted in a King. They still call Robert ''the Usurper''. I always thought it more likely that he and Lyanna just fell in love, or lust, and simply got away. Well, we'll never know._

Yes, we'll never know, and that was something I hated, not knowing. That's the reason I was heading for The Eyrie, Lysa Tully and her son were known to be off their rockers. I wasn't going back home not knowing what would be of Tyrion up there.

* * *

Let me tell you something: the King's justice sucks in The Vale. After a long way with some fighting included here we are, watching how Tyrion pisses off the ladies with his mockery.

\- You've had your little joke, I trust you enjoyed it. Take him back to his cell!

\- Is this how justice is done in The Vale? You accuse me of crimes I deny so you throw me into a cell to freeze and starve? Where is the King's justice? I am accused and demand a trial.

\- If you are found guilty you will pay with your life.

\- I understand the law.

The Lady had the moon door opened and told Tyrion that her son would judge him and then he would leave by one door of the other. As coercion it was great, that little shit was mental, and clearly too fond of the idea of making Tyrion fly.

\- No need to bother Lord Robin. I demand a trial by combat.

Thank the old gods and the new he said that. It was his only chance if he wanted to leave here in one piece. And the ladies weren't expecting that, clearly, but what choice did they have? That was the law. There were whispers and laugher all around. Then a bunch of ass-kissers offered to fight for Lady Arryn, but she chose the handsome of The Vale. Too bad he was dying soon, Tyrion would name his brother, the best swordsman in all Westeros, and be found innocent in the eyes of the gods.

\- I name my brother, Sir Jaime Lannister.

I wasn't expecting what happened next. Tyrion was denied his right to name a champion of his liking. Lysa Arryn said the trial would be today. Well, fuck the law!

\- Do I have a volunteer? - Tyrion turned around.

Nobody in here would volunteer. Not even for the Lannister gold. Except for Bronn, of course. He was about to step forward when I stopped him and put my cloak in his arms.

\- Allow me. I'm a little rusty – I smiled to him.

\- As you wish, my Lady – he mocked me-. Tire him.

\- I know what to do, Bronn. I'll fight for the dwarf! – I announced loudly-.

That nobody expected. Every head in the place turned in my direction. Lady Arryn was gloating about the fact that nobody wanted to be Lord Tyrion's champion when I interrupted her mid-sentence. Well shit, where are my manners? Tyrion was looking at me with a mix of surprise and relief.

\- But you're a woman…

\- Yes, I am a woman, he is a dwarf, good eye, Lord Vardis. Let me tell you something you can't see: I am the Red Viper's trainee, which means you are as good as death. Now, shall we? - I unsheathed my light sword, it was more like a large dagger than a sword. Swords were too heavy. The first thing Oberyn taught me was to know my weaknesses and use them to my advantage. I wasn't strong enough to wield a sword for long, so I used my short height and light weight to be quick and deadly in close quarters-.

He looked to his Lady unsure about the situation, but finally charged at me. First mistake. Never charge first if you don't have the element of surprise. I avoided him one, two, three times… I went up the stairs where I kept avoiding him and then jumped over the railing.

\- Stand and fight, coward! – Yelled at me Bitch Arryn.

I would have responded something akin to _''or you could come down here and avenge your husband and nephew yourself''_ but second lesson: save your breath, shut your trap.

Lord Vardis was coming after me again, so I kicked a chandelier his way. We kept like this, dancing around the hall. Third lesson from uncle Oberyn: let the enemy attack, get to know them. By now I knew Lord Vardis pretty well. He was boring, like many other knights. His strikes were predictable. No wonder I heard him piss himself when Tyrion named the Kingslayer his champion. Fourth lesson: don't rush it, wait for the opportunity. I could have stricken already, he left many open spaces to attack, but it didn't feel right. Oberyn taught me I couldn't see the opportunity, only feel it. I can't really explain it, but in a fight there is a moment when everything stands still, all your senses and emotions leave your body and you just know it: this is it.

And this is it. I cut him in his right side under the armor. He stopped to catch his breath. I could hear gasps and Tyrion celebrating. The Lady of the Vale was getting impatient, for she ordered her champion to finish me already. I blocked too strikes and twirled around cutting him behind the left knee. He went down, but stood again, and then he made his last mistake: let desperation take over. Fifth lesson: don't let desperation take over, desperation makes you stupid, stupid gets you killed. I made him trip and kicked his shield. He tried to strike me from the ground, but height and his wounds gave me the upper hand. I took his wrist and bended it making him drop the sword. This is it. I looked to the ladies, then to my defended, I held my little sword high and impaled Lord Vardis from the neck down his torso. A quick death. I left him fall through the moon door.

\- There's your flying man, Lord Robin – I winked to the little crazy lord. Many would call me heartless, but hey, you know what you're getting into when you accept to be someone's champion.

\- You don't fight with honor!

\- No. I fight smart.

Tyrion was released, he paid a debt, Bronn gave me my cloak and off we went.

* * *

\- What in the seven hells are you doing here? – Tyrion asked the very moment we were out of that madhouse-.

\- Saving the day, apparently. Did you try to kill Brann Stark? – I stopped him in his tracks-.

\- No, I didn't – he said with finality-.

\- I believed you innocent, but I just killed a man for you, I had to ask.

\- I understand.

\- Bronn, escort Lord Tyrion back to… wherever. Take my zorse - I said petting my animal. He was a big stripped white and black equine from Essos. One of the many gifts Oberyn brought me from his travels through the continent. _''It reminded me of you''_ he had said-.

\- You're not coming?

\- No, I'm not. It's been a long time since I last visited Riverrun. Don't worry, I'll stay out of the road. I free you from your duties, fret not, a Lannister always pays his debts. Speaking of which, you owe me a visit, my Lord.

\- I do, my Lady. Be safe.

\- I can't promise.


	3. Now we run

**Ok, so here it is, chapter three! I think this is the longest chapter so far... Thank you all for all the favs and follows and reviews, they really embolden me, you are amazing!**

 **Now, I haven't had much time to write, but I've been thinking a lot about what I want to do with this, and now I know where this story is going, so as I'll have more free time from now on I'll be updating more often.**

 **Also I thought about posting pictures in my profile about things in my stories to make it easier to envisage since some of you like it that way, but I've tried and it doesn't work. I've read it's happening a lot to other people so I'll keep trying and crossing my fingers.**

 **Now enjoy and let me know what you think! Kisses!**

* * *

She didn't know how long she'd been waiting in that tent, but it felt like ages. She was passing by the Riverlands, mostly keeping to herself and out of the roads except for the customary stops at markets to buy some food; even those stops were few, she hunted little animals, picked up fruits and even slept on the trees. She was doing all those things when she encountered the northeners. One moment she was alone and the next they were surrounding her. She didn't even aim for her sword. Apparently she was at the wrong place at the wrong time, so they took her back to camp, full of Stark bannermen. Since that happened her mind had been spinning. She had no idea what was going on.

As she was putting her head on her hands exasperated someone entered the tent.

\- You! –It was Catelyn Stark.

\- You know her? –Asked a young man next to her.

\- I don't know who she is, but she fought for Tyrion Lannister at The Vale- she answered while not taking away her poisonous look from her.

\- Who are you? I want a name- he demanded.

\- Enys.

\- Enys what. Where do you hale from?

She sighted exasperated. There was no way around this. She took her hood completely off to let her valyrian features sink in.

\- My name is Rhaenys Targaryen, and I hail from Dorne.

Both of them had the same reactions: wide eyes, surprise dressed with incredulity.

\- You're mocking me –accused the man.

\- Oh, please, if the hair and the eyes aren't enough you can send a raven to Sunspear. I'm happy to wait.

\- So it's true then, you survived… Your existence is almost a fairy tale.

\- Yes- she chuckled-, I keep a low profile, for safety reasons…

There was a long silence until the man decided to talk again.

\- You're friends with the imp?

\- I wouldn't call it friendship.

\- What are you doing in the Riverlands?

\- I went to The Wall, to visit maester Aemon. Few people know it, but he is my last living relative by my father's side. There I met Tyrion.

\- What about a Jon Snow? You met him? - Asked the man with sudden interest.

\- Yes, I met Jon too. We had supper together the days we shared in Castle Black. Why? Who are you, again? – She still had to get a name.

\- I'm Robb Stark.

\- Ah, yes, the eldest. Jon spoke to me of you. Nice to meet you lord Stark- she made a little head gesture that he acknowledged.

\- Why did you fight for the imp? - He was back to his demanding tone.

\- Excuse my honesty, my lady, -she addressed the lady for a moment- but the law was being bended to mask coldblooded murder as justice. As I said I met Tyrion at Castle Black, and although time didn't allow me to know him well, he doesn't strike me as a murderer. I'm sorry for what happened to your son, but Tyrion didn't do it.

\- I know that know –responded lady Catelyn with sorrow in her voice and her face-. The Kingslayer admitted having thrown Bran out the tower's window, and yet he won't admit the last murder attempt.

\- Ser Jaime Lannister? – Enys asked starting to feel her head spin again. She was clearly losing something- What exactly is going on here, Lord Stark? And what is this I've been hearing outside about a king in the north?

\- I am King in the North –he stated proudly-, my men pledged their alliance to me. They only recognize one King: me.

\- What? You're starting a war for the throne?!

\- The Lannisters started the war when they tried to kill my brother and took my father's head – Robb answered.

Enys didn't know what to say or do. It was clear to her that she ignored many facts, and the weight of that ignorance was making her feel tired. Tired and afraid.

\- You said Ser Jaime admitted a crime… -she looked at them for more information.

\- Yes. He is our prisoner.

\- This is madness… -she said moving restless on her chair.

\- You know a lot about madness, don't you? - He replied venomously.

Lord Stark didn't take well her opinion. It was clear in his eyes. The time for pleasantries was long lost. He had made his decision, and she was in the way.

\- Maybe –she chuckled-. But tell me, what do you call a man who goes looking for trouble into the lion's den with a losing hand? I call him _mad_.-They were now engaged in a staring battle-. And make no mistake, you're going to lose. You don't have the numbers, you don't have the means and you don't have the money. You only have the northeners. You think anybody else will turn against the Crown? Nobody wants another war, and no one will go to war. Because it won't come to that. Wars are expensive. You're out of allies outside the north. It's a matter of time that the Small Council enforces a commercial blockade. Then the riots begin: your men are tired, they're hungry, they don't like the way you're doing things, they just want to go home to their families… -she listed-. What happens then? How do you keep them in check? Loyalty and speeches only do so much. The man whose son and heir you keep prisoner has the money to keep his army diligent _and_ to turn your own men against you. Because they don't need to kill thousands… They only need to kill you and your family to put an end to this conflict. The new King will offer Winterfell and the title of Warden of the North to whoever ensures such an outcome.

She relaxed against the back of the chair then. She had leaned forward during her speech. Robb Stark's face was stony, while her mother's was full of sorrow.

\- Your only chance is to make a truce with Tywin Lannister. But you're clearly too deep in your own pride –she assessed him head to toe-. Your grandfather was burnt alive. Your father was beheaded. And you will die stabbed in your sleep.

When she finished nothing was heard for a few seconds except for the crackle of the fire. Lord and lady kept the staring match, while the mother held her breath waiting.

\- You are to stay here until I decide what to do with you. My mother will keep you company. Don't try anything, guards are posted outside.

* * *

Lady Stark was sat writing letters of unknow nature to her while she just laid on a hammock staring to her feet. It'd been hours since Robb Stark left the tent, and she had time to get to know everything that was going on from the lady. Catelyn had told her about the Warden of the North going to Kingslanding to become Hand of King Robert and then being executed for treason, something about the right to the throne. Enys didn't know how to feel about everything she had been told. Ned Stark was an honorable man. Maybe too much. Sometimes the honorable decision is not the right one. She had nothing against him or his family, but she wasn't exactly fond of them either. After all, he had participated in the rebellion that ended with her mother and brother brutally murdered. Yes, his sister had been kidnapped and yadda yadda, but that was the story that the winners had written, and many people in the Seven Kingdoms questioned it and still to this day called Robert ''The Usurper''. Robert Baratheon was a lousy king. He wasted his time drinking and whoring. The throne was his right, not his duty. And it was public knowledge that he hated everything Targaryen, including her. The very moment rumors were heard that she was still alive, The Usurper's intel was tailing her, forcing her family to make a prisoner out of her for the first years of her life in Sunspear. Keeping her safe, that's as far as the agreement between Doran and Oberyn had gone were she was concerned. Oberyn would have changed her name to Martell and claimed her one of his Snakes. She was too young to remember her true family after all, and she _smelled dornish_ as the Mad King had put it when Rhaegar presented her to him. Even when her eyes and hair lightened it wouldn't have mattered, for those features were sometimes seen in Dorne's lands, mostly in Starfall, near the Reach. Ashara Dayne had been a famous violet eyed beauty. But Doran refused. She was his protégé and thus he was meant to nurture and educate her, but he wouldn't pluck her roots. He made sure she knew about Rhaegar, Elia and Aegon. She knew about her family businesses as much as she knew about other houses. History and politics were deemed important during her education. One day she had complained about the density of her lessons… _''Knowledge of the past helps to understand others' motivations and identify their mistakes. One day you'll be outside, alone in the world, and your knowledge on Westeros history will help you make the right decision'',_ Doran had told her. Her understanding on past wars led her to think everything she had said to Robb Stark. Somehow she knew this would end badly for him, and yet she probably had failed to deliver the message correctly. She wasn't one to lose her cool, and yet his allusion to her parentage had burned deep inside. She meant to give a warning, but it ended sounding more like a threat or a bad omen.

Loud voices outside attracted her attention. She couldn't make out the words, but they were getting closer. Trouble in the north… She looked awry to the lady Stark. She was listening too.

\- What's happening?

Enys asked the lady with a soft tone. She thought for a moment she'd get an answer as Lady Catelyn turned to her, but then she got back to her letters. Enys looked back at her feet while listening the ruckus outside drowning again. They had passed their tent screaming and fighting. When she told Robb Stark about the future riots among his men she didn't know it was already happening.

\- This is the second time we capture the Kingslayer –the tired voice of lady Stark surprised Enys-. The first time he escaped killing a guard. The son of lord Karstark. Now lord Karstark wants his head, but Robb won't allow it. He wants the Kingslayer alive as leverage.

\- And yet he is not using him as leverage –Enys said.

At that the lady looked back at the young woman with a frown framing her face.

\- You lost your husband, but you don't have to lose your sons and daughters. Robb doesn't have to lose his brothers and sisters. _Use_ Jaime Lannister as leverage. _Exchange_ Ser Jaime for your daughters. Go home with your family. Mourn your husband properly and live what's left of your life knowing that you arranged a peaceful future for your people.

\- Why do you care? –asked sadly the lady.

\- I don't care personally, and I won't pretend to. I don't know you…

She paused, eyes on her own hands. Catelyn recognized the look on the young woman's face. She was reminiscing her home.

\- Have you met Prince Doran Martell?

\- No, but I've heard of him.

\- He is a pacifist… Yeah, that's a word that suits him. Pacifist. The Martells… They are a very close family. The _love_ each other. Doran loved Elia, my mother-she made another pause-. When she was brutally murdered at the end of Robert's rebellion he could have sought revenge. It was his right, wasn't it? Every dornish warrior would have traveled north and west to kill every last Lannister and Baratheon out there. Doran only had to command it. I asked him once, _''why didn't you?''…_

Her eyes had steamed by now, remembering those days. The days in which she had craved that revenge. In those days her dark eyes had acquired a purplish tone and her bangs were brightening while her temper started flaring in a dangerous way. But Doran was always there, being severe and patient. Oberyn returned from a long trip to Essos only to find his older brother on the brink of collapse. He didn't know what to do with her anymore. She had almost killed a stable boy who had looked at her the wrong way.

 _''_ _She looks a little more Targaryen each passing day. It's the blood of the dragon. Dragons are not meant to be diplomats. Dragons are meant for war''_ were Oberyn's words to Doran.

It had been a long time ago since she had last felt that anger course through her.

 _''_ _She is quite collected. Looks like we tamed the she-dragon'' – she heard Doran._

 _''_ _Don't let her silence fool you. She is merely sleeping. But she'll wake up, someday… And she'll ask for supper. I only hope it's in the form of a lion'' – smiled Oberyn earning a disapproving look from Doran._

 _''_ _You know a lot about madness, don't you?''._ Robb Stark's words reverberated inside her head again. That burning sensation under her skin had startled her, but now that the memory lane had taken her back to those years it felt so oddly familiar. So _her_ …

\- ' _'Revenge was my right, but duty comes first''_ , he answered me. He has a duty with his family, and with Dorne. Staying in Dorne educating his children and me he ensured his legacy as well as Elia's. To ensure _that_ he gave up on revenge. He taught me that. He taught me to pick my fights wisely, to swallow the lump on my throat and wait. And to save as many lives as possible. It doesn't mean they have forgotten, you know… But there is a time for everything. One only must be patient –she smiled slightly, although it didn't reach her eyes.

\- You're not the first one to propose the exchange. He sent someone with Ned's remains, as a token of good will…

\- Who did?

\- Tyrion Lannister. He is serving as Hand of Joffrey in his father absence.

\- Then you must exploit this situation before it's too late. He is a reasonable man.

\- Even if I agreed with you, the decision is not mine.

\- Maybe not, but as a mother it is your task to talk some sense into your son's head. He tricked Tywin Lannister once, he won't trick him twice. How many will die then? How many northerners will die protecting a useless prisoner?

As if on cue to her words, the fight outside started once again, this time even wilder. The unshed tears in lady Stark's eyes dried up. Her face back to its stony mask. Enys kept staring at her, waiting for something. Hoping. She knew she had made a good point in the eyes of the woman in front of her. They had reached an understanding. They both wanted the same thing: go home. She knew what had to be done, she only had to make a decision. And she did.

Enys saw lady Stark harden her face and get up from her chair to go outside.

\- What is the meaning of this commotion?! –Enys heard her addressing severely the guards outside the tent.

\- The Karstarks, my lady. They want the Kingslayer dead.

\- And what are you doing here? Go put some order!

\- But my lady, Lord Stark-

\- My son wants the Kingslayer alive, so you lot better go over there and break up the fight.

Enys saw her come back inside quickly, maybe too quickly. With the speed of someone who is up to no good.

\- Come with me- she commanded her.

Enys followed her without question. It was dark outside. She readjusted her cloak and took a last glance behind her. Over the side of the tent they just left she could see that the fight hadn't eased in the least. She speeded up to walk beside the other woman. She looked around only to see everybody ignoring them. Nobody questioned the presence of lady Stark around the camp. Good.

Finally they reached a muddy spot south of the camp. It was full of big cells with chained men. Lannister soldiers, she guessed. They walked to the far side of the improvised prison to a remote cell. Enys stayed aside, watching as lady Stark commanded a soldier to open the cell and then leave. She took a look at the man inside. He was chained to a post rotting in his own shit. Long hair was the only thing she could make out under the dim lights of the torches. She decided to go in to see and hear what the lady was up to.

\- They want your head – said Catelyn.

\- Old lord Karstark doesn't seem to like me –he sounded irritatingly arrogant.

\- You strangled his son with your chains.

Enys tried to maintain a sober expression, but it was difficult. She couldn't believe _that_ was Ser Jaime. Growing up she heard as many stories of his swordsmanship as of his beauty. The man in front of her was hardly the golden lion she had been described. His hair was supposed to be blonde, his skin gold, his eyes a blazing green or blue depending on the light… But the dirt and the beard on him hardly allowed her to see his features. There was nothing special about him. He was just another forlorn soldier in his enemy's camp. That's what war does to people, even to golden lions.

\- Oh… Oh! Was he doing the guard duty? He was in my way. Any knight would have done the same.

Enys saw his eyes flicker curious towards her before returning to lady Stark.

\- You are no knight. You've forsaken every vow you ever took.

\- So many vows... They make you swear and swear. Defend the king. Obey the king. Keep his secrets. Obey your father. Protect the innocent. Defend the weak. But what if your father despises the King? What if the King massacres the innocent? It's too much. No matter what you do, you're forsaking one vow or the other.

Enys had to agree with him on that. Oaths shouldn't exist anymore. They were a thing of the past. The only way lords and kings had to make sure people would obey them, at the risk of losing their honor publicly or even worse, their lives. She had heard stories about Aerys. How could anyone be expected to protect a man like that? And yet they did, all his White Swords. All of them. Until a young Jaime Lannister did what nobody else had the guts to do and shoved his sword into his back.

\- Who is she? –he asked referring to Enys.

\- She is the kind of person you will never be, Kingslayer.

Enys didn't know how to feel in that moment. It sounded like a praise to her, but it also seemed like the lady only wanted to offend Ser Jaime. That _Kingslayer_ surely had sounded venomous.

 _\- Kingslayer!_ – he mocked-. What a king he was… Here's to Aerys Targaryen, the second of his name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and to the sword I shoved in his back!

\- You are a man without honor.

\- You know… I've never been with any woman but Cercei…

That Rhaenys was not expecting. She heard rumours, about him and his sister, but as any rumour about people she didn't even know, she never really stopped to decide if she believed it or not. Everything he said was truly interesting so far…

\- So in my own way – he continued-, I have more honor that poor old dead Ned. What was the name of that bastard he fathered?

\- Enys? –the lady called upon her.

\- No, that wasn't it –Ser Jaime continued mocking lady Stark-. Snow. Bastard from the north. Now when… when good old Ned came home with some whore's baby… Did you pretend to love it? –He asked-. No, you're not very good at pretending. You're an honest woman. You hated that boy, didn't you? How could you not hate him? The walking talking reminder that the honorable lord Eddard Stark _fucked_ another woman.

Enys couldn't believe what she was hearing. Didn't he give a fuck anymore? Did he have such an enormous dead wish? It wasn't just his word. It was the way in which he delivered them. Enunciating each word, gesticulating, goading her…

\- Your sword- lady Catelyn demanded from her.

Now the tie in her stomach was as big as her head. Putting a sword in the lady's hand after that provocation was asking for blood. Enys didn't want him dead, no matter what a monumental dick he was, killing him would start the war, the _real_ war. Also she didn't like at all the idea of someone dying by her sword when she wasn't the one wielding it. But she still had some faith in the lady. She believed in the exchange, she wanted it. Enys saw it in her eyes. She took a deep low breath to relax her nerves and told herself that Catelyn Tully Stark was a stoic woman who wouldn't kill her only option to see her daughters again, no matter the provocation. She unsheathed her light sword and offered it to the lady, who took it promptly pressing its pointy end to his chest, right over his heart. He didn't make any indication as to be afraid. If anything he appeared relieved. He exhaled relieved and kept looking the lady in the eyes as he had during his monologue. Was that it? He thought he was going to die and so he had confessed and said his part to die without burdens?

\- You. For my daughters- said the lady pointedly-. Sansa and Arya will be sent to Winterfell unharmed. You will see to it. She is travelling south too, so she will accompany you to King's Landing to make sure you keep your end of the bargain. Those are the conditions of your freedom.

Enys let out a breath of hair she didn't know she was holding and saw Ser Jaime's face change drastically. He thought he was going to die and had made his peace with the idea, but now lady Stark's words had made him painfully aware of how alive he was.

\- Robb acceded to this? –He asked suspiciously.

\- Those are the terms. Take them or don't.

In the near future lady Stark would have to give a lot of explanations. But not now. Not to him. Ser Jaime studied her carefully and turned his attention to the cloaked figure that had provided the sword he thought would kill him. Enys didn't think he could see her face clearly, but she was begging inside for him to accept.

-You have my word- he said.

Lady Stark kept staring him down until she saw whatever she was looking for in his face. Afterwards, she returned the sword to her owner and produced a key that she gave also to Enys.

\- Release him, but tie his hands with rope- she ordered.

Enys walked around the post and opened the shackles around his wrists first, that way she could tie them again with rope while he was seized by the neck. She squatted beside him to tie him up making sure the knot was proper and tight. He squinted closely at her trying to take a better peek while she twisted and pulled on the rope ignoring him. Finally she freed his neck and pulled on the rope to get him up.

\- Now what –he asked.

\- Now we run.


	4. Lucky me

They'd been walking for a week now. It felt like forever, and yet they hadn't gone very far. They could have stolen horses and make a real run for it, but horses make noise and leave tracks. Also they're only fit for roads, at least the common Westeros horses, and roads were another thing to be avoided. All the roads to the south were territory of the enemy the very moment Robb Stark found out about their release. Despite his arrogance the young wolf knew that the captivity of Ser Jaime was capital for his victory, and so he wouldn't engage in any more battles until he had him in chains once again. That meant his men had a lot of time for leisure, which would be occupied looking for the two fugitives while their king in the north looked for allies for his war. She had explained all this to the tied man following her around when he protested yet again about the rough and muddy terrain he was forced to walk. That was all he ever did. Protest and whine like a child. She didn't pay attention to him at first. She saw him goading lady Catelyn, and she didn't want to give him the pleasure, she was smarter than that. But as the days passed and the lack of sleep was starting to affect her she found it harder and harder not to punch him. She didn't think of it at first, when they ran. The sleeping part. She naively thought that he would be a willing partner in this adventure of them, they both were headed the same way and they both wanted the same thing: get back home. But cooperation was too much to ask, apparently. So that last time that he complained she had talked back without really wanting to.

'' _Think, Ser Jaime. Being the only clever one in this fellowship of ours is starting to take its toll on me.''_

She had regretted it the moment she said it. Not because she thought he could feel affronted, but because she had shown weakness by letting him get to her, and so feeling empowered by this he would keep pushing it. But that's what she thought, not what happened. After that last exchange he had been awfully quiet. Not that she was complaining, in fact she was quite grateful…

She readjusted the sac over her left shoulder and lifted the rope in her right to step over mossy tall rocks. The sac was light, for it only contained a waterskin, some grapes and apples she had collected along the way. They'd been looking for a suitable place to rest for the night for a while now. It'd be dark soon and they couldn't risk a fire in the open, so in order to be able to cook something for supper and keep warm they needed secluded areas. Today the quest was proving most difficult, the woods they were walking through were large and dense, with no sight of rocky walls anywhere near and a complete lack of high bushes that could hide them for the night. It was the most uneven terrain they had walked by far, with tall wide trees too close to one another, forcing them to sway their bodies left and right with every step and lift their knees high over roots and rocks. Even with her tall leather boots her stockings were wet making her feet slippery.

A few trees later she noticed more light was coming from between the trunks, white and weak light, but a clear sign that they were leaving the woods behind. For a moment she had worried they were walking in circles as everything around they looked the same, and getting lost in a sterile place like this was a death sentence by starvation. But now she allowed herself to leave those fears behind as she picked up her pace while still minding her feet. The light became brighter and brighter as they advanced, the kind of white light that shines late in the afternoon announcing a cold foggy night. They blinked their eyes and kept them half closed as they broke out the tree line to spare their eyes as they adjusted from the dark shadows they were leaving behind to the whiteness welcoming them with eagerness. She put her hand flat open over her forehead for extra protection and studied her surroundings. The mud and moss dried with each step giving way to gravel and flat boulders. White up in the sky and under their feet with a speck of blue in the middle and green to the sides. At first she thought they had reached a big enclosed lake, with the rounded shore and high leafy mountains around, but after a closer inspection she realized her mistake. This was no lake, but a meander… A big enclosed bend in a river's course. A secondary river, since there were no signs of activity, no tracks on the bank, no pathways on the surrounding foliage and hills above… It would be perfect, if only the little cabin in the middle of that perfect scenario was inhabited.

The grating sound of gravy terrain under her companion's feet alerted her of his proximity. She turned her head towards him to see him right beside her, looking at the same thing which presence was bothering her. He looked back at her reflecting the same insecurity that surely was plaguing her own eyes. She pulled him back to the tree line and tied him up.

"Stay" – she commanded.

The frosty white was becoming grayer and a cold breeze warned them of the oncoming mist of the night. The front of the cabin was bare of windows, just a thick door, giving her an advantage. She walked over the deck surrounding the little wooden box, making as little noise as possible and listening for any indication that there might be someone inside. She already knew it wasn't a home, it couldn't be. The wood panels showed the damage suffered over the years by the floods, there was no hearth and the only natural light came from a little window on the far side. It was clearly a hunting cabin, a place to start and take a rest before going back home. She peeked carefully over the one window and saw the place empty. She took a glance over the corner that she came from to make sure her pet was still there and then she walked into the cabin. There was no lock or anything, which was good, because it meant no one really owned it. With the leaking outside light she could see a little fireplace in a corner, she touched carefully the branches and they crumbled in her hand becoming black dust. Cold. Nobody had been there for a long time. Good. They needn't worry about hunters coming back to sleep the night. Also, she wasn't schooled in the matter, but as far as she knew it wasn't boar season, which was the kind of animal worth hunting that would live in such an environment. Bless their luck. The place was filled with things they could use for their trip, like knives, waterskins and dry meat, but for the moment she only had use for the arc and carcaj with some arrows, so she took them both from the wall and placed them outside by the door.

She went back to the trees to retrieve the Knight.

"We'll spend the night here" – she informed him while untying the rope from around his waist.

He only nodded his head and waited rather stiffly for her to finish. She had noticed that. Whenever she maneuvered with the rope around him, invading his personal space to surround his torso with her arms… He went as far as to hold his breath.

"Relax, I'm not interested." – She said.

"Lucky me. I thought you'd have to compensate for the lack of a horse.''

So he had picked up on her dornish accent, going by the horse fucking joke… People from the capitol and their prejudices… Not that she minded. She rather enjoyed a good banter.

"Now that'd be an easy choice. You have nothing on a dornish stallion."

"You haven't seen it.''

She smiled widely for what seemed like a _long_ time. Now, she didn't quite enjoy unrequited attention –my, the number of noses she had broken and ears she had bitten over the years-, but he managed to sound innocent and charming despite the dirtiness of the things he implied. He didn't strike her as a perverted old man. He was all mouth, no action.

"I'm about to…" – She let her words sink for a second before she tugged the rope again towards the cabin.

"What are you talking about?" – His voice was higher and pitcher than before. No more low and silky playfulness. Only uncertainty.

" _We_ are taking an improvised bath.'' – She kept on walking over the deck.

"I didn't think hunters included tubs in their cabins."

"What use could they have for a tub when they have a river."

She saw him understanding her meaning in the slight widening of his eyes, and then proceeded to untie his wrists. He stood there, unsure. It's what you do if you are untied while being a prisoner and have half a brain. Stay in place. Don't try anything funny right away.

"Now…" – she took the bow she had left prepared before, and an arrow- ''See that?'' – She pointed at a charm hanging from the roof of the cabin.

A lucky charm. No matter where you went in the whole Westeros, you could see those hanging from trees and doors alike. Some made of rusty wood and coarse thread. Some polished and silky. All of them made by the hands of a mother while praying to the gods. _Don't take my son away, Stranger. Bless my daughter with children, Mother._ She aimed carelessly and loosed. The arrow fled with force, passing mere inches away from his face, and hitting the charm right in the middle, where all the threads bound the pieces together, ripping it out of its place and nailing it in the trunk where she had tied him minutes before.

He turned around giving her a face that clearly stated he didn't appreciate the scare. But he kept his trap shut.

"My point being: _don't try it_. I can't kill you, but I can cripple you.''

She didn't know how much she'd come to regret that sentence.

* * *

She had gone inside the cabin, started the fire so it would warm the place before it had a chance to get cold from the oncoming night, and placed two fishing lines a few yards away where their presence wouldn't scare their dinner away. And what had he done in the meantime? Nothing. Well, he took off his boots, but he was sitting still fully dressed.

She crouched besides him, looking forward, and talked to him.

"Look, I don't care about your hygiene or how much of a prude you are. But we're going to travel together for a while, so even if we can't change our clothes I would really appreciate it if we keep the smell to a minimum. We don't know when we'll have another chance, if we have it at all.''

With that she stood and started to take off her clothes giving him some space. When she was fully naked she sat down with her legs hanging into the water. She kicked them rhythmically and wet her arms and torso slightly before dipping completely. She dived in and passed her fingers insistently through her roots. It felt amazing after so long. When she came back up she saw Ser Jaime was finally into the water, scratching the dirt off his skin. She avoided looking at him again. From her dornish uprising point of view she thought it was stupid to feel body shame. Everybody has tits, and cunts and cocks. But she could respect other people's boundaries. Not her problem, after all.

She rubbed her skin and mane until she was satisfied enough, and walked towards the shore wringing her hair out. She retrieved the two fishes that bit naked, giving her body time to dry before dressing again, and Ser Jaime the time he also needed to get out and dress in private. She killed the fishes with a hard blow and took them inside with the rolled up lines. A few minutes later she walked back outside with the sheet of the only bed in the cabin tightly wrapped around her body and a bucket. She threw its contents into the river –the heads and guts of their dinner- and took her clothes from the deck. He was almost dressed by then.

"Come inside, dinner is almost ready."

Once inside again, she turned around the fish she had put over the fire and then went behind a screen to change. She heard Ser Jaime closing the door and walking slowly, checking the place. Not much to check: a fireplace, a mattress, two wooden blocks that served both as seats and side tables –and as tempting steps if you were in the mood to hang yourself….- a screen for some privacy and of course lots of hunting props around the walls and ceiling. She stepped from behind the screen and sat on one of the blocks.

"Won't you seat?" –She asked him sliding the fish from the wood with two fingers and serving it over big leaves. It wasn't a big thing, they weren't even seasoned, but it'd do. – Here – she offered one.

He took it and sat in front of her, his legs spread ahead, ankles crossed and back to the wall. She had her feet firmly planted on the floor, her body hunched over between her knees. She crumbled her fish with her fingers and blew on it, but he munched on it right away, rumbling in his throat in appreciation. She arched her brow at him.

"After months as a prisoner of the northerners bland fish is a luxury I can appreciate." – He told her.

"What did they feed you?"

"Stale bread, mostly. Leftovers, skins…"

She made a disgruntled noise as an answer.

"What?" – He asked.

"That's why Robb Stark is gonna lose this war."

"Because he fed me bread and chicken skin?"

"Because he can't see the bigger picture. You were leverage."

"Yes?"

"You don't starve the leverage" –she enunciated the words like she was talking to a child. A very dumb child. - "He might have reasons, be a good strategist, but he's not schooled in politics. He won't lose in battle, he'll lose around a table.''

She went back to eat with her fingers like nothing, leaving behind a deep silence. If she hadn't lowered her head to eat she'd had seen the change in the knight's demeanor. His eyes were fixed on her with lots of question.

"Where did you say you're from?" – He finally asked.

"I never said."

"And why's that?"

"You never asked."

"I'm asking now."

"I'm from Dorne, obviously" – she snapped-. "And you already know it going by your horse-fucking joke from before."

"But where in Dorne?"

"What's your bet?" – She returned the question.

The table had turned. Now he was the one leaning forward while she relaxed against the wall.

"I'd say… Starfall. Going by those interesting features of yours."

Yes, everyone knew about the beauties with violet eyes from Starfall, Ashara Dayne being the most iconic one. Although he never heard about white hair being present too in the southwest. But then again, he could imagine how someone would forget about white hair with the haunting memory of eyes like that. And yet he didn't realize of the presence of that colour in her eyes until now. The same way he didn't see the whites in her mane until now.

"You seem very keen on hiding your face." –He accused.

"As you should." –She finished their conversation. - "Time to sleep."

She stood up swinging the rope side to side.

"Is that really necessary?" –He asked with dread in his voice. - "I didn't try to scape!"

"I can't sleep if I have doubts. The lives of two innocent girls depend on your delivery to King's Landing. And I _really_ need to sleep."

He hated the idea, but he couldn't blame her either. She hadn't mistreated him, she only was as stern as he forced her to be. And that last sentence almost sounded like a plea, more than a command. She really needed to sleep. He saw her growing weary as the days passed. Her calm demeanor giving way to a tired snippiness. The hard ground had nothing on his bed back at the capitol, but he slept pretty good giving the circumstances. But she didn't. She kept watch, and when she finally gave herself a moment's peace she did it with her back to a wall, or a tree, and the rope that bound him secured around her wrist.

After pondering over all of this, he silently surrendered his hands.

"Thank you, Sir Jaime."


End file.
